


Our Track Record

by Luzula



Category: due South
Genre: Episode Related, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-03-29
Updated: 2008-03-29
Packaged: 2017-10-03 02:28:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luzula/pseuds/Luzula
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>We never did this as teenagers, although Lord knows I wanted to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Our Track Record

**Author's Note:**

> For Zeenell, with the prompt "Nothing is ever as easy as you seem to think it is." Apologies for not using the prompt verbatim--the snippet just did not want to have any dialog. Thank you kindly to China_shop for a helpful beta (and for giving me a title)!

The snow crunches under my boots as I walk home. Ray offered me a ride, but I declined, wanting some time to myself. Chicago in a cold snap is a different creature. The streets are slick with ice and mostly abandoned by cars, especially this late. It feels as if Diefenbaker and I have the whole city to ourselves, while the native inhabitants keep to their homes.

The afterglow of adrenaline keeps my body warm. It has been years since I played hockey last, and I'd almost forgotten the rush of the game. Mark and I switched to opposite sides after a while, and the gleam of Mark's grin in the Riviera's headlights spurred me on, while Ray and the boy watched from the side of the pond.

I lost the game, of course. Still, it felt like winning to me.

Meeting Mark again is like regaining a piece of a puzzle that has been lost since my teenage years. It isn't as if I thought of him often, really, but there is still a connection there. I grin as I remember what we got up to as competitive young boys. There was the time on the ice road after they closed it for the season...Well. I am sincerely relieved my grandparents never found out about it.

Ray thought I was naïve to trust Mark, but my trust wasn't misplaced, after all. I _knew_ Mark would never throw a game, even though Mark didn't seem as sure himself. He'd muttered something about things never being as easy and clear-cut as I seemed to think they were.

My pulse beats steadily in the swelling on my shin. There will be a bruise tomorrow, but for now there is only heat and heightened feeling, and the satisfaction in having used my body until I'm well and truly tired. There's a similar swelling on my hip, where Mark checked me roughly, knocking me to the ice. I gave as good as I got, though.

The incipient bruises from the game aren't the only aches I have. I lick my chapped lips, remembering last night at my apartment. We didn't need to talk about it, or perhaps we didn't want to. A look, a nod, and then our bodies spoke for us, our mouths connecting in mutual desire.

We never did this as teenagers, although Lord knows I wanted to. I don't know whether Mark did, as well.

I needed this. To let myself push, and feel someone else against me, pushing back. I braced myself on knees and elbows on the bed, hands gripping the bedding tightly. It had been years since I did this, but the slight pain only grounded me, kept me from drowning in the pleasure. Mark nudged my legs further apart, and I dropped my head down, watching his hand move on me. His blunt fingers circled my erection, stroking until I cried out and drove myself backwards, meeting his thrusts.

Later, the sweat was cooling on my body, except where my skin lay sticky against his, and our heartbeats and breaths slowed down. Mark threw the condom away, then glanced at me, unsure. I almost laughed. As if I knew anything about how to handle the etiquette of this situation. He seemed to catch my mood and smiled back, a lopsided grin that made his eyes crinkle.

Well. There was room on the bed, after all, and the floor was hard. I said as much, and Mark nodded, and got into bed next to me.

Mark is leaving tonight on a plane bound for Winnipeg. We said we'd keep in touch, and I think we both meant it, although given our track record, I'm not sure if we actually will.

Dief whines beside me, nudging his nose into my hand. His breath is white in the frigid air. Yes, I wish I could have gotten to know him better, as well. I trusted him for the boy that he was, but I think the man he is now deserves my trust as well, even if he doubts it himself.


End file.
